My Secret Voyage
by Manus Fati
Summary: Evelyn Griggs and Rose DeWitt Bukater try to survive the upper class voyage that seals their fates. Though it seems they have it all, they feel like they have nothing. Until they both run into Jack Dawson.
1. Day 1

My Secret Voyage

April 10th, 1912.

I was on my way with my parents to board the most extravagant passenger ship in the world, _The RMS Titanic_. My parents said this trip would change my life, and in a way I was sure it would. I just didn't know how much it would really change.

"Rose, I believe her name is. Yes, her parents have her going with them as well. I'm sure they won't mind having her along." My father sat talking to my mother, when he turned to me. "You remember Rose don't you, Dear? You always were tagging along behind her-... Dear?"

"Mm." I had spoken with Rose just the other day; I'd run into her while trying to find some fresh paints for my art supplies. We'd spoken for quite some time and, like her, I wasn't happy about being shipped off to New York. My home had been in London for years, ever since my parents moved here when I was a small child. However, they wanted me to have an _American_ education, of course, and made it perfectly clear that they would be staying in London while I studied. It was cruel of them, to say the least. I loved London, and to leave it just for the short trip to Southampton was difficult. Even so, I was never one to put up much of a fight. I smoothed out the lace on the dress my parents had bought me from Paris. The black frills were in perfect condition, like many dresses of the same style that I wore often. I didn't look up from the frills on the dress skirt for over an half hour, until my mother spoke.

"Look, Evelyn. You can see the ship from here!" My mother exclaimed out the window. In all our years of living in Britain, I found it funny that she still hadn't learned how to behave properly in private, as she did around her friends and their husbands. Though she didn't worry about her own conduct, she always pressed upon me how I should act. I pursed my lips together and suppressed a laugh as I watched my mother lean half way out of the coach window, but she was right about the Titanic. A quick turn showed the mighty ship towering over all of Southampton. I would soon meet the voyage and the rest of it's passengers with a fake smile and soft nod. When the horses stopped, the valet began to unload my trunks from the coach and my mother stumbled out behind me. As we stepped out, Ms. Molly Brown greeted us.

"Wised up, I see, Griggs! I'd been saying you'd go back to America, eventually. Ah, Evelyn. How you've grown!" She laughed. She was rude, improper, and recently came into some money. She immediately tried to spend it all to make a name for herself in upper society. However, she had made the wrong kind of name. She was known as _new money_. I'd overheard my mother and Ruth DeWitt Bukater speak of her before. Though my mother didn't mind her at times, I could tell that Ms. DeWitt Bukater had a hard time tolerating Ms. Brown.

"Actually were just sending Evelyn. We'll be staying behind, moving to Paris, you see." I returned the hug that Ms. Brown was smothering me with as my father spoke. The whistle was blowing, and it was time to board the ship.

"Oh, I'm sure she'll be fine on her own then, Griggs." I felt Ms. Brown's hand at the small of my back, pushing me forward before I really ever got a chance to speak with my parents. "Come on, dear. You stick with me." The ship was indeed impressive: over 800 feet long, she towered over the shipyard and her passengers scrambled to get aboard. I presented my ticket and stepped onto the first class deck. A crew member helped me carry my things to the room which I would be staying in during the trip to New York. I hadn't had much time to settle in before Ms. Brown came bursting in, wanting to drag me down to The _Café Parisien_ to meet some new friends of hers. I didn't mind, seeing as it gave me a chance to explore the ship, not to mention it was almost lunch time. The hallways were just as luxurious as the rooms; Fine, ornate wood paneling and red carpet, complete with the most beautiful furniture I had ever seen. Every so often we'd walk past a black and white bench, with designs carved into the seats and the iron arm handles twisted into an intricate design themselves. However, the most disappointing thing to me was the paintings hanging from the walls. They were primitive and simple; I'd seen them all before. I wished to see something different, I wanted to see a new artist in our dreary gray world, that didn't see it in the black and white it was already painted in.

"Ah, Cal! I was hoping you hadn't left." Ms. Brown helped herself to a seat at the table where the young man was sitting. "I see your families have joined us, how lovely. Evelyn, this is Cal Hockley and Ruth Bukater and her husband."

"Mrs. Bukater, good morning." I smiled, offering my hand to shake hers. A small look of relief filled her half smile and she gestured for me to sit, between herself and Ms. Brown.

"How are you dear? I haven't seen you in years." She almost whispered to me. Other than my encounter with Rose the other day, I hadn't seen the DeWitt Bukater family since I was 14. That would have been three years ago. "Where are your parents?"

"They're staying behind. Moving to Paris, I believe." I said, trying to avert the attention from myself with short answers.

"Hardly parental conduct." Cal spoke up, the disapproving tone showing all too clearly through his voice. "Letting their daughter travel to New York alone. If I had children I wouldn't let them leave town without a chaperone. What are you going there for anyway?"

"Art school." The waiters shuffled by the tables of the restaurant, Cal's disapproving expression regarding her parents decision lingered on his face. His dark hair was slicked back, complimenting his darker olive toned skin. His thick lips tensed before he spoke again.

"Are there no art schools in London?" He laughed, making a joke out of the situation.

"I assure you I'd rather go to one there, but my parents believe I should have my education in America." I smiled solemnly, and turned to get a waiter's attention for a glass of water. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling were as gorgeous as the rest of the ship that I'd seen so far, and I couldn't wait to get out of the restaurant to see what wonders the Titanic had left for me. Avoiding contact with Cal and the rest of the members of the table, I noticed a young woman my age walk in through the door. Her red hair and resemblance of her mother gave her identity away immediately.

"Rose, darling. I'm so glad you've decided to join us." Cal said standing up, pulling out a chair for her and kissing her on the cheek. "Rose, this is Evelyn... Evelyn..."

"Evelyn Griggs. We've met." Rose said quietly, and to my surprise her voice was forceful, almost angry towards Cal. Though despite the resentment for the man who had just kissed her, she smiled gracefully at me, welcoming the presence of any friend she had.

"Yes, Cal and Rose are engaged. Aren'cha?" Ms. Brown smiled, trying to bring the attention back to her with her loud exclamation of private affairs. Of course, this explained Rose's temperament. She had never struck me as one to be married to a man like Cal. "They've been set to marry for almost two months now. Seems like they should get it over and done with already! You've made your parents wait long enough, haven'cha Rose?"

"We wanted to wait until we were back in America, though if Cal and my wife had their way I'm sure they'd be married right here on the ship." Mr. Bukater responded, turning to a waiter laughing. After whispering something to the waiter, the man pulled out a cigar and a match for Rose's father. Soon, he was smoking like I was always used to seeing him do. This was the first time he had spoken since I arrived with Ms. Brown, though it was odd I could guess why. Even though she had come into quite a bit of money, Molly Brown didn't quite fit in with first class society, privately or publicly. She was loud and boisterous and even rude. She spoke out of turn, and was always gossiping about something that wasn't any of her business, like Cal and Rose's engagement.

"Evelyn, Rose has brought some paintings of hers with us. I personally don't think much of them,but, being and _art student _maybe you'd like to take some of them off our hands!" Cal laughed, being suddenly quieted by the angry and surprised look that Rose gave him. He coughed, laughing, then turned to the rest of the table and took a cigar from Rose's Father.

"Art Student?" Rose turned to me. "You hadn't mentioned that the other day."

"Yes, my parents are sending me to school in New York. Sort of a compromise," Rose's eyebrows arched at my statement so I elaborated on the subject for the second time that morning. "You see, I get to be an artist like I want, but only if I get an _American education_ like they want."

"I'm sure it's wonderful." We both laughed, "Being able to do what you want, I mean. It must be wonderful to be free." Rose looked at Cal and then her Mother, the smile disappearing from her face. Though it was replace with anger, and not longing. The rest of the table was still chattering while the men smoked, most of the conversation now revolving around the _Titanic_ itself. Our conversation died with Roses words of freedom, and I had grown weary of the rest of the company.

"Sorry, I still haven't unpacked my things. If you don't mind, I'd like to go do so." I excused myself from the table. After leaving the table I decided to walk around the deck instead of going back to my room. Wandering the deck, I saw a couple of boys from the lower cabins that caught my attention. I stopped and watched their carefree hooting and hollering off the front of the ship. The taller one was American, his hair was blonde and dirty, but his eyes matched the Atlantic Ocean that covered the scenery in front of him. He was obviously the owner of a third class ticket; his clothes were tattered and dirty, just as his friend's were. He looked back at me and I kept moving, embarrassed that he'd caught me staring.

"That's what I'm gonna miss about Europe, Fabrizio." The American said, stepping back and pulling a cigarette from his pocket. "The French girls."


	2. Night 1

My Secret Voyage

April 10th, 1912. The same night.

I had gone back to my room to fetch my paints so I could catch the night sky on the Atlantic. The sky was beautiful and the moon reflected on the water so clearly, I couldn't resist capturing it on canvas. I was sitting on the front deck, close to where the two men had been before when I heard a disturbance behind me. A woman's faint scream echoed from the other side of the ship and the crewmen scrambled to help her. I dropped my brush, spilling the blue paint all over the deck and rushed behind the sailors. The length of my dress and heels tripping me on the way, it took me a minute to catch up.

"Perhaps something for the boy?" The captain was talking to Cal. Rose stood by him, frightened and shaking. Near the railing was the American I'd come across earlier, his boots and jacket thrown on messily. He was rubbing his wrists as if he'd been cuffed.

"Lovejoy, a 20 should do it." Cal grabbed Rose and attempted to lead her away from the scene. A tall man who had accompanied us at lunch pulled out a wad of bills, ready to hand one to the American boy.

"Is that the price you put on your future wife?" Rose looked at him astonished. I didn't listen in on the rest of the conversation and instead turned to a crew member. He hardly noticed my presence until I said something to him. He looked at me for a second, but then looked away again as if I had not asked him a question. He turned away with the rest of the crew members at the scene with no verbal response to me at all. Furious at being ignored, I turned to the remaining party.

"Rose," I yelled out. She turned around, out of Cal's hands and I walked towards her. "What happened?"

"Not now, Evelyn." Cal interrupted. "She's very tired- Perhaps tomorrow at dinner." Rose apologized for his rudeness as he lead her away shivering under a heavy blanket. I waved and watched everyone leave the scene almost as quickly as they had. Turning around I looked to the only people left. The Captain pushed by, leaving only me, Mr. Lovejoy, and the American.

"It's funny, the lady slipped so suddenly," Lovejoy said, "And you still had time to remove your jacket and shoes..." Lovejoy left, not gracing either me or the boy with another word. I walked to the edge of the deck and leaned against the railing, leaning forward off the heels of my shoes.

"I'd be careful, miss. You might slip." I didn't have a chance to speak before he did. His warning was dry, as if it was practiced or routine. He pulled his sleeves down and bent down to adjust his boots, not looking at me.

"What happened?" I asked, stepping away from the railing.

He'd only paused for a minute when I asked my question. Not a startled pause, he looked more annoyed than anything. As if he'd been asked that question one too many times tonight, which I was sure he had. When he finally looked up at me, his expression became impassive, just like his warning. "What's it to you, Ma'am?"

"She's a friend of mine."

He just stood there and stared at me for a while, pulling his mouth to one side. When I grew uncomfortable with his staring I looked down and smoothed the frills of my dress over my stomach. I was still wearing the French style dress that I'd boarded the ship in, though I'd removed all my jewelry. I looked at the wood paneling of the deck, the benches lined up along the rails, and up to the night sky for a good time before he spoke.

"She slipped and I caught her, if you want to know details you'll have to ask her." He said, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket.

"Why, can't you remember?" I asked, mockingly.

"Well, sure I can. I just think it's her business." He lit the cigarette in his mouth, smiling a bit. He took in a large breath and blowing it out, careful to avoid my face. He walked up to me and leaned against the railing himself, despite his earlier warning to me. He lifted the cigarette from his lips and blew out another puff of smoke, watching it disappear in the cold night air. "I was just there at the right time."

"What were you doing out so late?" I backed away only a little bit to sit on a bench, and honestly I was a little nervous to be any closer to the man.  
>"Looking at the stars." He looked up, and his gaze lingered there for a long while. He blew another mouthful of smoke, still looking at the sky while he kept speaking. "I haven't seen them this clear since I left Wisconsin. It's never this clear in the city, especially in Europe. It's nice, you know? I guess I just forgot what it's like to go outside and just look around."<p>

"I know what you mean." I said simply. Forgetting my manors, I was looking at the sky with him and smiling to myself. I lied back on the bench and put my hands behind my head, my feet crossed on the iron arm. I heard him scoff and his boots tap against the wooden deck as he turned around.  
>"What do you know?" He said, almost laughing. I lifted my head looking away from the sky and he was starring at his hands, flicking his cigarette ash on the ground. He looked at me and spoke before putting the cigarette back in his mouth. "I bet you've never been out of the city."<p>

My heels hit the deck and I stood up. My hands went to my hips as I spoke. His eyebrows rose in surprise and laughed at the way I stood, possibly even at the fact that I'd been insulted. "There's beauty in the city."  
>"Yeah, but not near as much. The most beauty I found in Paris was in the Courtesans." I rolled my eyes at his reply, remembering my first encounter with him on the opposite deck. "Sure, the light's are something else, but the city is nothing compared to the natural simplicity of Wisconsin. There's no smog from factories and ships to block out the stars, no carriages and loud music... Just the chirping of crickets. In the winter there's just a solid blanket of snow, nothing but a few tree's popping out. Sure it's cold as all get out, but it's a good price to pay for the skyline you get. Once I got to Europe, I never let myself forget that."<br>I was taken aback, he never paused to think about what he loved about his home. I couldn't think of one thing. I tried to imagine what he was talking about, but he was right, I'd only ever lived in New York and London; I wouldn't know anything about the west. When I couldn't find anything to say I smoothed out my dress and stepped forward, holding my hand out to the boy. "Evelyn Griggs."  
>He took my hand and smiled, "Jack Dawson."<p> 


End file.
